


The Fox and The Hound: The Hunter Series

by Majella_Thompson



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Action, Betrayal, F/M, Fantasy, Romance, mature - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:21:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9518522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majella_Thompson/pseuds/Majella_Thompson
Summary: In a world where magical abilities referred to as Talents are outlawed and punishable by death, Mira, a thief with a reputation as The Fox, gifted with the Talent of being undetectable when hiding and an escape artist, finds herself being hunted by The Hound, the King's best tracker.





	1. The Fox

The man wasn’t alone in the small candle lit room tonight. He was a plain man, short and plump with a scruff of a beard covering his face. He wore a brown tunic and pants with white sleeves that were too long for his stubby arms. He sat at his scratched wooden desk, surrounded but old dusty bookshelves and crumbled up pieces of parchment, littering the room. Ink stains covered his embroidered sleeves, from many hours he must of spent writing in his books. The scene of the room was slightly skewed from the droplets still falling from earlier rain, and framed by two oversized, moth eaten brown drapes. However tonight, he had a visitor. His mysterious companion was tall with an athletic from and a powerful stature. He held himself in a way that suggested that he was of nobility, seeming out of place in the middle-classed home. Though his cloak, that covered most of his body and obscured his face, looked as if it belonged to nothing more than a labourer or a black smith.

As the men continued to discuss what was written within the first man’s book, the mysterious man would shake his head occasionally and often shrug his shoulders in frustration, but never turned his face towards the window. “Who are you”, she wondered to herself as she slowly made her way across the loose roof slates of the neighbouring house. She made no noise as she moved, like a shadow, no one noticed her decent towards the window. There was a crescent moon high into the sky that night, allowing enough light for her to see her way as it bounced off the rain droplets still lingering from the earlier shower. As she reached the edge of the roof she swung her body underneath the awning to a small window ledge, where she perched next to a large potted plant. At her new vantage point she could see the sharpness of his jaw and the wisp of black hair that escaped underneath the hood, but she still couldn’t see that man’s face. She could make out the drawings on the paper to depict a list of some kind, of what she wasn’t sure, next to the papers lingered her target for tonight. A small wooden box sat on the edge of the desk, inside held secret documents from the king and the scribe’s personal seal, this was why she had come. The stout man was upset now, yelling something about the absurdity of an “it” being connected to a “them”. This intrigued her further. What were they talking about? What was this list? What was ‘it’? Who are ‘they’? And who is this man who is talking to one of the King’s scribes in the middle of the night? None of it made sense, but she hoped Burlhag might be able to put some of the pieces together. 

As she leaned closer, the mysterious man suddenly stood upright and turned towards her looking right at the spot she hid in the shadows, perched on the ledge. She made herself melt into the darkness, she knew he couldn’t see her, his bright green eyes looking through her sending tingles down her spine. As quick as he was there in the window, he was gone, hidden behind those foul brown drapes. She didn’t see his face well but she could tell that he was handsome, with a narrow face and a strong jaw, maybe a few years older than herself. A bewildered expression left on the stout man’s face. She waited until the men had left the room before she ventured out of her sanctuary of darkness, making her way over to the small window she had been staring through tonight. Pulling on the shutters, locked, she pulled out a thin blade and began using it to fidget with the mechanism, unlocking the window and permitting her entrance. Once inside the room she sulked over the desk to where the box sat. The papers the men were discussing before were gone now, the visitor had taken them with him. Smuggling the box into her pack she fled, back to the sanctuary of her small room across town. 

Once under her covers she lay in her cot, going over everything she witnessed tonight, curiosity having gotten the better of her. She was sure Burlhag would be happy about the success of the contract though she was curious as to whom would want these plans and the Scribe’s seal. However, this mysterious man had infuriated her, never has anybody in all 21 years of her life has detected her while she was hiding. She may not know what they were talking about but the fact that this man knew exactly where she was, while being 10 meters away and in the cover of night, was the real thing that was the absurd tonight. As she stared at the slanted ceiling of her small abode, she wondered one last time the identity of the man with the green eyes, before she allowed herself to succumb to sleep. 

When she woke up the next morning the sun was yet to arrive as the clouds painted the sky, but she knew it was day with the steady hum of carriages travelling on distant streets and the bustle of the city’s occupants bellow. She dressed in worn brown leather boots that reached her thighs and black cotton pants, with a simple black fitted tunic and large brown leather belt strapped around her waist, with a set of lock picks concealed within the fold of the leather. Her main weapon of choice was two fine long daggers with an intricate pattern etched onto the blade with a large sapphire placed in the hilt of one dagger and a ruby in the other. These where her prized possessions, a matching pair once belonging to the distant memory of her parents, given to her before they were separated when she was a child. These daggers nestled into the belt’s strapping on her back, making it easy for her to grab but where hidden when she wore her cloak. These weren’t her only weapons as she had another smaller dagger concealed in her boot. Her long burgundy hair flowed in loose locks down to her waist, using a ribbon she tied it up. 

Catching sight of herself in the rusted mirror, she saw a small young woman staring back at her with fierce blue eyes the colour of a tempest at sea. Her light scatter of freckles that graced her nose and cheeks and her soft pink lips made her seem a couple of years younger than she was. She often used this to her advantage when she wanted to be underestimated, using it to take the element of surprise, but it infuriated her when she wanted to be taken seriously. Her hand hovered over her pendant that rested on her collarbone, hidden underneath her tunic, as it often did when she was lost in thought. She pulled it out to marvel at its beauty. It was a dark blue stone during the day and purple at night, and like now, when sun reflected off it sparks of red flared up inside it. The stone was surrounded by a beautiful network of delicate silver that embraced the graceful curves of her collarbone. Her pendent, much like her daggers, was the only other precious thing that she had in her life, this though was far more important to her. “I guess it’s time to go see Burlhag”, she muttered to herself as she once again hid her pendant to its spot, picking up her pack, she headed out the door to find Burlhag. 

She walked into the study with confidence to find Burlhag talking to Dayken, one of Burlhag’s top thieves, more commonly known as the infamous Hawk. His reputation of being a master archer, thief, and a former spy of King, was much more daunting then his appearance. Daykon was dressed in a long dark green tunic today with black pants and black leather boots and belt strapped around his hips. A simple steal dagger hang around at his belt and his crossbow was strapped to his back. Daykon was late 20’s and was handsome in his own way, with his square jaw, serious face and his straight brown hair framing his warm chocolate brown eyes, he usually reminded Mira as a protective older brother, which was probably why she never talk his reputation as The Hawk seriously. Burlhag on the other hand, was tall with a broad frame but had his usual red robe on that he wore when he was around the house. His slightly wrinkled face, from many years of hard labour, was framed with salt and pepper hair covering his chin and head, and those hard, dark brown eyes that have seen many things of which he would never speak of. 

“Ah, Mira! How was your midnight stroll? Did you pick up anything interesting?” Burlhag exclaimed as he saw her by the doorway. Walking further into the room, she nestled herself into one of the large arm chairs that sat next to the fireplace mounted in the wall, the amber flames roaring as they ate at the wood in its lap. “Well as usual, the contract was completed without a hitch” she said through a smug smile as she threw the wooden box onto his desk. “However, the Scribe wasn’t alone like we were informed. He was hooded, so I didn’t get a good enough glimpse to be able to identify him.”

“So, he wasn’t alone? Interesting. I wonder what agenda the Scribe has that our contact is so desperate to find out?” Burlhag asked while he made his way over to his desk, picking up the box and checking the contents, doing a curt nod when satisfied that everything was there. “They were discussing one of the Scribe’s lists and some other notes he had jotted down in his journal. I did catch a brief part of their conversation towards the end. The Scribe seemed shocked about a certain thing being connected to a certain group of people. About that time, I got a brief look at the mysterious man, he was tall, much akin to Daykon’s physique and age, with black hair and bright green eyes. He also seemed to hold himself in a way that suggested he was higher than the middle-classed clothes he wore which could mean that he is of importance and probably would be recognised if he wore something else. They are obviously up to something. I don’t know if this lead is of any use to us but we may be able to get a bit more money from our contract for this information. Unfortunately, this Mysterious Man seems to be smarter than your usual targets, I think he knew I was there” she scowled as she pinched some bread off Daykon’s plate. 

“Very interesting indeed. I’ll take this under some thought and I’ll see if anyone else in my network knows of anyone who might match that description.” Burlhag said while scratching his chin, an often habit of his when he was perplexed. “What about you Daykon? Do you have anything you can add to this? Any possible leads that may be related?”  
“No nothing unfortunately in relation to this Mysterious Man, however I think the Scribe may be a dead end from now on if you are looking for information to sell. If this Mysterious Man saw Mira spying on them then he isn’t going to make that mistake again. Especially not if he’s smart. I may have another possible lead that may connect him to the Scribe’s business. I think it might be best if I do the spying for this contract from now on” Daykon stated with a smug expression despite the daggers she sent him with her eyes.

“Yes, I think you might be right Daykon, I’ll leave this case to you. It’s probably for the best. I’ll get you Mira, as The Fox, to focus on our underground activity and the contracts from the Rat’s Den.” The Fox was her secret identity and started because of her bright red hair and cunning nature, but soon developed into the reputation as Burlhag’s best escape artist. No one could catch her. “I’m sure Daykon will be better suited for this particular contract with his experience as one of the King’s spies, you however are one of my top thieves” Burlhag concluded as he shooed The Fox and The Hawk from his study. Scowling Mira turned to Daykon once they left the room and shouted “What that hell was that for? You got me kicked off the case!”  
“That Mira, was payback for stealing my case last week. Besides you might turn up some dirt at the Rat’s Den that is related to this” Daykon said with a smug smile on his face. “Whatever” Mira mumbled as she stormed off returning to her rooms for the remainder of the day. At night, dressing in the same dark clothes as before and donning a large hooded cloak, Mira made her way to The Rat’s Den.


	2. The Rat's Den

The Rat’s Den wasn’t somewhere a normal young woman would want to be. It was dark, musty, and located in the slums of the city, close to the docks. Crime ran havoc in the slums, mostly stealing and black market goods, but it was also the place to go if you wanted to hire a murder, and The Rat’s Den catered to those criminals. Unfortunately for Mira she wasn’t normal. As Mira arrived to the underworld’s hub, the moon was high in the sky and the scene of clean city streets and well maintained buildings was long gone. Instead it was replaced with old rusted gate underneath a broken bridge that lead into the sewers. This was the underground. As she passed the gate, torches burned away, lining the corridor as she made her way down the stairs and through the passageways of the sewer. Grime and mould lined the cobblestone walls from the damp atmosphere, with the occasional red stain marking a stone or painting the floor. Mira was near the Den now, pulling her hood of her jacket even lower so that no one could see her face. This was not the time to play the young girl card. A few burly and dirty men passed her equipped with heavy blunt weapons and a fearful demeanour, most likely mercenaries. Only some would bother to look her way, most would just assume she was street rat either begging for food or some coin.

As she rounded the last corner the passageway opened to a small room with more torches, two broad guards with knives, and a second rusty metal gate, this was the entrance to the most dangerous place in the kingdom, The Rat’s Den. The guards assessed her as she passed through the gate, recognising her as one of Burlhag’s thieves, they waved her through. The first thing you could see when crossing the threshold was the trickle of water, flowing from a city street grate in the ceiling, into a cistern that cut through the middle of the room. Over the cistern floated a wooden platform that held some wooden tables and splintered chairs. A few more men sat at these chairs, holding pewter pitchers to their lips and sloshing the liquid inside when they argued with each other. Connecting the platform to the cobblestone covering the rest of the flooring was old wooden ramps. More table and chairs with loud patrons littered the rest of the space, some falling into little alcoves that lined the walls. Torches again lined the walls and some stood freestanding near the ramps. The room was well lit but it did not feel safe and warm in the slightest. A bar stood in one corner of the room and a large cooking fire in another. A couple more doors and passageways led from this area to other parts of the underground labyrinth. Some included accommodation, others were more like offices for the underground royalty. To get into that later of the two consisted of going through their personal army of bodyguards and emptying your pockets of a lot of gold.

Mira made her way to an alcove, sitting herself in the dark as much as possible. Some bar wenches moved themselves around from table to table, providing refills and offering a different kind of service which would involve them heading off into the accommodation wing of the underground. As the night went on she people watched, craning her neck in the directed of anybody that might say something she might want to her. Mostly gossip ensued the crowd, sometimes about the movements of the military, the king, or recent crimes that have been committed. A lot of the stories were exaggerated, but sometimes there was an element of truth. Besides people watching, Mira would sit and wait until a bar wench would point someone in her direction wanting her services. Usually criminals and the working class would come to her to form contracts, generally because they were in trouble and needed to get out of the kingdom quick or they had a debt that needed to paid. Small tokens, and valuables where often stolen from neighbours or people they were jealous of, sometimes being exchanged for cash. Sometimes business men who were on the brink of poverty would request secret information from their competitors or even have them sabotaged. Every now and then even an aristocrat would venture to the depths of the sewer in request for a business transaction. Mira’s nights in the Den often played out like this.

While watching two burley looking men a couple of tables over, argue about who was going to take the bar wench up on her offer, tonight Mira noticed a mysterious man sitting in the alcove behind them, watching her. Much like herself this man wore a large dark coat that was pulled over his head, hiding his face in shadows. Bright green eyes were the only feature she could make out from his face. Tingles racing down her spine she shifted in her spot, scanning the room once more for any interesting gossip. Glancing back over to the man again, he was still staring at her. “Time to move” she thought to herself while heading for the exit. Passing through the gate, Mira glances over her shoulder at the spot where the mysterious man was. Another set of tingles go down her spine as she finds the spot empty with the man nowhere in sight. Rushing up the passageway now, Mira drew more attention to herself as more patrons began to turn around and watch her. Glancing back over her shoulder in search for the mysterious man, Mira walked straight into something hard with a “huff”, knocking her hood off. “Oi! Watch it boy! Wait…you’re not a boy” the hard wall that Mira walked into said through a twisted smile.

This ‘Wall’ was 6ft, broad, rippling with muscle, had dark shoulder length hair and a scruff of a beard smeared across his face. A glaring scar warped his smile and twisted up to his black soulless eyes. Red and brown stains covered his dark tunic and a large axe hung on his back and a dagger in his belt. “Sorry” Mira huffed as she quickly pulled her hood back over her face making a move to step around the man. “Wait not so fast littl’ girl. I haven’ had a girl in a while. Why don’ you come back with us to the Den? We can get a drink and hav’ a littl’ bit o’ fun!” the ‘Wall’ said through a thick accent and rotten teeth, that wicked smile still on his lips. More large men with weapons began to surround Mira. “Sorry, I have to go” Mira said, slipping through the great mass of muscle that had surrounded her. “Awe leaving so soon girly?” another man said, this one was skinnier and taller and had a crossbow on his back, again sharing the twisted smile of the first. Mira ran then before they could grab her, sweaty fingers grazing her arm.

Escaping outside Mira ran for the first street she could find, headed for somewhere she could hide. Reaching a dead end on the docks, she jumped behind a couple of fishing crates, allowing her Talent to engulf her in the shadows. Hidden the men ran past her to the end of the platform, and paused, confused they began to back track. “Where did she go?” outraged the ‘Wall’ exclaimed, hungry for his prey. There was three of them, the first man she had ran into and two others with similar physiques except they were carrying swords. The man with the crossbow wasn’t with them. As the men passed her, heading back to the street, the man with the cross bow appeared. He slowly walked up to the dock, concentrating on the ground, a twisted exhilaration encompassed his face as he relished in the hunt, making Mira want to vomit. “Shit!” Mira mumbled under her breath, “he must have a Talent in tracking!”. The man with the crossbow continued staring at the ground until he stopped just in front of the crates that she hid behind. Before she had a chance to pull her daggers out a hand went over Mira’s mouth and one around her waist, pulling her underneath the dock and into the water before the crossbow could find its target.

“Shush! Don’t move!” an urgent voice whispered in her ear. Resisting from struggling further Mira stopped, standing chest deep in the black water, the waves crashing into them as he held her from behind. Footsteps sounded up above and the noise of a crate being thrown across the dock sounded, broken wood thundered down like a storm. A loud scream pierced the air as the man with the crossbow found she wasn’t behind the crates. The ‘Wall’ growling “where is she!” when the man with the crossbow came up empty handed, his temper the thing of nightmares. “Under now!” the mysterious voice whispered once more, pushing her with himself underneath the water. Dragging her with him, Mira begrudgingly obliged swimming away from the known danger of the four men on the deck, instead with the unknown danger of the mysterious man that had pulled her under. They swam until her lungs gave out, arriving at the other end of the harbour scrambling up the rocks of the shore. Before she could get very far, the mysterious man flipped her onto her back, cradling her hips with his thighs, he held a dagger to her neck, demanding who she was.

In the moonlight, she could see him perfectly. He was tall, maybe 6 foot, and had an athletic build. Defined muscles sculptured his chest and arms as the wet fabric clung to him. The hood of his coat had fallen off while swimming and his wet, black hair dripped into her eyes. He had a pale complexion, much like herself, with a narrow handsome face and a strong jaw. He only appeared to be a few years older, maybe mid to late twenties. His mouth was set in a stern expression, no laugh lines etched into his face. His eyes were the main thing that captivated her, rendering her helpless underneath their intense gaze. They were a vibrant green, like an emerald, with a thin rim of gold surrounding the pupil. They were dangerous, and wild but they also stirred feelings inside her, like something from a distant dream, that she hadn’t felt for a long time. Another tingle went down her back as she lay captive under his gaze.

“I said who are you! And who do you work for!” he demanded again, pressing the blade hard enough to draw a bead to roll down her neck, snapping her out of the enchantment of his eyes. “I’m no-no body” she managed to stumble out, becoming aware of the situation they were in. “I don’t believe you” he said, continuing to scrutinize her with those eyes. “Why were you at The Rat’s Den?” almost spitting the words in disgust. “Just to hear the gossip” she said honestly, not having any clients come up to her today that was all she did. Managing to regain her composure she began to assess the situation. This man was taller and stronger than her, getting out from under him won’t be easy. Trying to swing him onto his back won’t wise as the ground was too unstable, she wouldn’t be able to get a good enough footing before he caught on to what she was doing, also the blade at her neck made it difficult. She looked him over for other weapons, only a longsword was visible on his back, but she was sure there was more hidden in the fold of his clothing. Distracting him as she thought out her next move she stated with a cocky grin “I could ask you the same thing. And I could also ask you to kindly get the hell off me!” The Man’s expression faltering for a second in surprise as he felt the sharp point of one her daggers pressing against his chest, she had managed to slip it out from its holster without him noticing. His eyes challenging her, he said almost amused “So I suppose we are at an impasse then?”

“I guess we are” she said chocking back a laugh as another bead dropped down her neck. His face slightly softening he slowly removed the blade from her neck, instead resting it on his knee. Un-wavered Mira said “How about getting off me now?”  
That same glint of amusement flicked across his face “No I think I’ll stay here until you tell me your name and remove your blade from my chest”.  
“In that order?” she challenged, a hint of a smile touching her lips. Curiosity lingered in his eyes, almost a deep longing and sadness swam in the deep green, as if he was reliving a bitter-sweet memory. As soon as it came it was once again gone, replaced with the slight amusement of before, making Mira wonder if it had happened at all. “Yes” he said through a smirk. Curiosity got the better of her, again being honest she said “Mira”.


	3. The Mysterious Stranger

Her honesty having thrown him off guard, she wrapped her legs around his waist and twisted her body until she had tumbled him unto his back with her thighs now wrapped around his waist. Positioning her blade now at his neck this time, she smiled knowing that she had him. Slightly winded, he lay there not resisting as they stared at each other in silence, the amusement and wonder in his eyes told her that he too agreed that she won. “Now, having that sorted, who are you and why did you attack me?” she stated, that cocky grin back on her face. Stifling a chuckle as her steal bit into his flesh that strange bitter-sweet expression once again crossed his face. Hesitating, almost tasting the words in his mouth he finally said in a rugged voice “Ric, my name is Ric. And I attacked you because I thought you were somebody I knew. My mistake”. 

Mira wasn’t sure if she could trust this ‘Ric’. She could tell he was hiding something but she didn’t know what it was and whether it was going to put her in danger. What confused her most was the way he would look at her. His face didn’t betray much emotion but his eyes would occasionally open a doorway to something much deeper, something intense, something that excited her even though every sense in her body told her to run. Pushing those confusing thoughts back down she analysed his body language and facial expressions for any threat. He was relaxed underneath her, no muscles were poised to move, his face showed a calculated look, she imagined cogs turning in his head, watching every one of her moves. She decided that she didn’t trust this man but she also didn’t want to stay like this for the rest of the night. She snuck a quick glance around her for the best route of escape, readjusting her weight, she jumped off him then ran down the nearest street, only glancing once behind her to see him still on the shore watching her go. His expression unreadable. 

She didn’t stop running until she was back in her room. She didn’t want to think about him. There was something about him that reminded her of a young boy who loved horses. A boy with eyes the colour of the meadows, that he taught her to ride on, back home. A boy who she hadn’t thought about in 10 years, because every time she allowed herself to, pain would break her heart knowing how they spent their last day together and the events that followed that night. Catching herself clutching at her pendant, refusing to wonder what had become of the boy and even entertain the notion that was him, she ripped off her pendant and hid it underneath a loose floorboard. “You can stay there until I forget about all this again” mumbling under her breath, climbing into bed she prepared herself for a sleepless night of horses, tunnels, and daggers.


	4. Little Rabbit

Rising just after dawn, refusing to sulk on the events of the previous night, Mira dressed in light day clothes with her daggers strapped to her back and her picks in her belt. Headed into the markets, having left her hair loose today it swayed in the wind, like an untamed fire the sun reflected vibrant hues of red and copper. The market place was bussing with excitement as the inhabitants of the city got ready for the new day. Bakers had their fresh wares out for sale, the smell of hot bread wafting through the air, servants lined up to buy what they needed to plan the meals that day. Other merchants lined the market place as well. Fisherman had their fresh catch on display, hunter’s their game, farmer’s their fruit and vegetables. Other stools sold garments and fabrics, parchment and supplies, books, jewellery and even weapons. Some vendors even offered repairs. Anything you may possibly want could be found in the market. 

Making her way through the market, intending to buy some cheese and bread for her breakfast, a little hand grasped her own. “Miss Fox! I’ve missed you, have you come to play?” a little squeal sounded from the girl holding her hand. She was about nine years old and stood just past her hips, with big brown eyes and chubby cheeks smeared with dirt. Her short brown hair was braided into two piggy tails on each side of her head. Her smile was touching her eyes. Happy to see her Mira smiled back. “I’ve missed you too my Little Rabbit, but I’ve told you, you can’t call me that here. If someone was to hear…”   
“Yes, yes, I know. We’d both get into trouble then you’d have to fight our way out” She said with a mischievous grin. This girl was another one of Burlhag thieves and had a Talent for light feet and even lighter fingers. Her real name was Poppy but Mira often referred to her as ‘Little Rabbit’ as a form of endearment, as Poppy was like her little sister. “Enough shopping! I want to go play!” Poppy squealed again, tugging at Mira’s arm in the direction of the Palace Gardens. “No wait” Mira tried to say in between laughing, “I need to go get some food then we’ll go play I promise”. Poppy’s smile infectious, Mira couldn’t help herself from smiling the rest of the morning.

The City was designed like a big circle with another six circles inside, each representing a district. The outer circle was separated into two, the Industrial and Harbour district which backed onto the sea, also known as The Slums as it caters for the city’s poverty and criminals, and the Farming and Outlanders district located on the other side of the city. The fifth district and the largest of the districts was the Working-Class, where she lived, housed all the labourers and the fishermen. The next inner ring was the Middle-Class, where the Market Place was located, housed the merchants and the crafters. The third district was the Upper-Class, catering for the wealthy aristocrats, and anyone else important enough for the King to have nearby. The Palace districts consisted of the last two circles, were both surrounded by stone walls, each with their own gate and set of guards. The public Palace Gardens, the stables, servant quarters and the army barracks were found in the outer ring, and the Palace itself with its own private garden was in the inner ring. 

As Mira and Poppy journeyed on their way to the public Palace Gardens, Poppy had been babbling non-stop about her life, her friends and this one boy she thought was cute, blushing as she would describe him. The opulence of the buildings and grandeur of their inhabitants from each district increased the closer they got to the middle. Mira felt subconscious of her simple attire in comparison to the ladies that would walk around the streets in white dresses with pins in their hair and parasols decorating them in shadows of lace. Wishing she wore her pendant, her only piece of jewellery, Mira stared at the beautiful women in envy, coveting the lavish life she could have had. 

Poppy squealed when they had the outer Palace gates in sight, only a couple of guards manned their post, mainly there for show than duty as they flirted with the young women of the Upper-Class district. The Palace Gardens were as large as one of the other districts. The Palace Gardens was designed as an engagement present from the prior King Richard to his wife Queen Silvia. From what she knew of them from her parents, King Richard and Queen Silvia were kind and just rulers, who were unfortunately assassinated in their own chambers nearly twenty years ago, leaving behind a six-year-old son named Prince Adalric. His uncle, and King Richard’s younger brother Hamzal having his own son, Prince Emeril, promised Prince Adalric to raise him as if he was one of his own. Since then Hamzal has become King, with Prince Emeril as his heir, and Prince Adalric commander of his army.

All varieties of trees and flowers could be found in the garden from through out the Kingdom. Paths of soft white pebbles marked walking tracks that weaved around garden beds, leading to carved stone bridges, and ending at little seating areas. The songs of birds can be heard as they fly around their home among the trees, and the crashing of water from a distant waterfall. It was still too early for most of the occupants of the Upper-Class district so the Palace Gardens was relatively empty. Letting go of her hand, Poppy ran ahead of her, skipping along the path to find a nice spot where we could eat our breakfast. Settling underneath the shade of a magnolia tree, the long wispy branches draped a blanket of sweet pink flowers over them. Mira lay in the lush of the soft green carpet, smiling as she watched Poppy run around, smelling all the flowers, picking the ones she liked most and putting them in a pile next to Mira. “I’m thinking about entering the acrobatic event this summer festival. It’s been so long since we were at the carnival! I miss doing cartwheels and tumbles” Poppy huffed just before executing a perfect cartwheel. 

“Do you remember those days? Oh, you should enter into an event as well!” Poppy squealed, plans for Mira’s performance going through her head. In terms of those days where they were at the carnival, how could she forget it? Those were the scariest, hardest but most exciting years of her life. When that accursed night occurred almost twelve years ago, the night that followed the most important day of her life, scarred for eternity with pain and terror. A day where she shared her first kiss to the boy with the horses, tainted with the events that followed that night, sometimes still haunting her dreams. After that, she ran away when she was just ten, taking her horse she ran fast and hard until she was lost. Eventually she came across a travelling carnival that offered her refuge if she performed and contributed back to the carnival like everyone else did. She learnt acrobatics, juggling and her favourite, fire dancing. She found Poppy when she was seventeen, Poppy barely five. She met Burlhag a year later, taking Poppy with her they started their lives as thieves. 

Poppy started to babble about her costume she was going to make for the competition while she weaved the flowers she had collected from before. She had already made herself a small crown of daisies and magnolias, now working on mine. Her small face shining bright with pure joy, her huge warm eyes held a hint of darkness in them, her childlike innocence gone after the flu took her parent’s lives four years ago, and her uncle robbing her of whatever innocence she had left. An image of a small girl, bloodied and beaten, laying half unconscious in a dark alleyway. Bruises, like large purple hands, gripper her arms and neck, more lined her inner thighs. Bile rising in Mira’s throat, forcing herself to remove the memory from her thoughts, she forced a smile as she made her way back into the present, where she sat with a spirited little girl among the flowers. Poppy had finished Mira’s crown now, larger than her own, she added some forget me knots into the mix, placing it on her heard she sung “There, pretty as a princess!” 

Once again forcing a sad smile Mira thought to herself “If only you knew…”, giving her a tight hug she said “No, you’re the real princess”.


	5. Feedback!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody life happened and got in the way. I am adding this chapter as a way of getting feedback on the story and whether people are wanting more! Please give me an honest review and let me know if you'd like to keep reading 

Read chapter summary. Make sure you comment!!!


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